Envy the Night

4

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Took Nora ten minutes to get Dave O’Connor in and out of the body shop. He had the cash out before she was even in the door, put it in her hand and waved away her offer of a receipt, said he knew she was trustworthy and he was in a hurry, now, could you show me that Mistubishi you were talking about?

So she took him out back and showed him the car, a rusted blue box of a thing they used for errands, running back and forth to the auto parts store. Had four-wheel drive, but that was about it. Windshield wipers were shot—how many times had she asked Jerry to replace them?—and two of the windows hadn’t moved in the better part of a decade. Dave O’Connor looked at it as if it were the next year’s model of his fancy Lexus. Took the keys and tried to press more cash in her hand.

While declining the money for the third time, she realized she was hustling him out of the shop almost as much as he was hustling her, and she knew why. There was something off about this guy, and, yeah, it started with the cash-only thing and the I’m-in-a-big-hurry thing but went beyond those, too. A meeting in Rhinelander? What the hell was he doing on County Y, then? License plate from Florida, no less. And the mannerisms, the tension . . . she pushed it out of her head. He’d given her more than enough money to hold the job, and it didn’t seem likely he was going to dash off and leave his expensive car. If he did, hell, she’d make a fine profit off that. How long did you have to wait to claim a mechanic’s lien?

So she let him take her car and drive off, didn’t fill out any of the standard paperwork, just accepted his money and his promise to return Monday. Even a few months ago she would never have believed she could agree to something as crazy as this, but a few months ago the shop’s debt was merely threatening, not suffocating her in the way that it was now. She stood in the parking lot and watched him go, two grand in cash in her pocket. It was enough to justify the breach of protocol. She was in a dream world when she walked back into the shop, and pulled up with surprise when she saw the young guy standing there, Frank. How old was he, anyhow? Appearance said he’d be a few years her junior, maybe twenty-six, twenty-seven. Acted older, though. Carried himself all steady and sharp-eyed, the way a man who’s seen a lot will do. The way her father had.

“Hey,” she said, and for some reason she tugged off the baseball cap, shook her light brown hair out.

“Hey. You get things settled with that guy?” He stepped closer to her, an easy smile on his face but the eyes not matching it, too thoughtful. A nice-enough-looking guy, runner’s body, good skin. Needed to grow the dark hair out, though, lose that military cut that made him look even younger than he was.

“A pocketful of money to prove it,” she said and gave him one raised eyebrow that made him nod.

“Feel safe about getting that Mitsubishi back?”

She laughed. “If I never see it again, that’ll only save me money.”

“Different sort of guy, wasn’t he?”

“Seemed a little on edge.”

“Uh-huh. Got a gun out of the glove compartment when he was moving his things into your car, too.”

That stopped her. Not just because of the gun, but the way he said it. Relaxed. Casual. And how had he even seen that? When O’Connor was busy switching his gear from the Lexus to the Mitsubishi, she’d been standing right beside him, with Frank all the way back at the shop, leaning against the wall.

“Handgun,” he said. “No big deal, I’m sure. Lots of people carry them.”

She didn’t say anything, just stood beside the door and stared at him.

“Look, I didn’t want to worry you,” he said. “It’s meaningless.”

“I know that. I was just surprised you saw him with it, that’s all. You were standing all the way over—”

“Good eyes. I’ve got good eyes.”

“I guess so.” Pretty eyes, too. Nora always liked blue eyes on a guy with a dark complexion. Something about the contrast. She pulled open the office door, stepped inside with Frank behind her.

“I’ll go back and tow your car in just a minute,” she said. “You know what you’re going to do for a ride?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Where were you headed?” If he said Rhinelander, she was going to be awfully uncomfortable.

“The Willow. Staying at a cabin up there. I’ve got some errands to run in town, though, groceries and the like, so I’ll deal with them first.”

“You aren’t going to rent a car?”

“No need. Once I get up there I don’t plan on leaving for a while.”

She pushed her hair back over her ears, the baseball cap still in her left hand. Over Frank’s shoulder she could see Jerry standing at the row of lockers along the far wall, getting ready to take a cigarette break. The doors to the paint booth were still open and the lights were off, which meant the Mazda wasn’t drying, which in turn meant Jerry hadn’t repainted that quarter panel yet. Good thing he was taking a cigarette break.

“Tell you what—if you can kill the afternoon in town, I’ll drive you up to your cabin tonight,” Nora said, refocusing on Frank again. “Come by around six?”

“You don’t need to—”

“It’s not a problem.”

“All right.” He nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Sure. Six o’clock, right?”

“Six o’clock.”

Thing was, Jerry didn’t dislike women. Was rather fond of them, in fact. In their place. And their place was not in a friggin’ body shop. Shit. Standing in the paint booth and listening to the tow truck growl as Nora set off on her second trip, he wondered just what he’d done to earn this fate. Working for a woman, him, best body man in the damn town. Could he find work somewhere else? Sure. But even if Nora was a righteous bitch four days outta five, she was also Bud Stafford’s daughter. And if Bud ever got better, came back to run the place again, Jerry wouldn’t want to make eye contact with him knowing he’d left the girl on her own.

She’d told him to redo the clear coat on the Mazda. Redo it, like he’d painted the thing the wrong color or something. Hell with that. Somebody needed to look at the Lexus, and Jerry didn’t think Nora was the one for the job. Car all beat up like that, there was some work just to figure out what all was wrong. If she wanted the Mazda fooled with again, she could wait till Monday, or do it her damn self.

Jerry found the keys to the Lexus and pulled it into the shop. Shee-it, what a car. More bells and whistles than anything he’d seen. More than anything he’d want, too.

Once he had the car inside, he got to work inspecting the damage. Hood would need to be replaced, plus the front quarter panel, and the front passenger door. Now, if it were Jerry’s car he’d probably handle that door and the quarter panel with a liberal amount of Bondo, a spray gun, and a buffer. But he didn’t imagine the Lexus owner would agree.

Problem with these fancy new machines was all the shit you couldn’t see. Sensors and computer chips and whatnot. Some of them would be up under the bumper, so he’d have to figure out what the hell they all did when he took that off. Probably want to replace the bumper assembly, too. Make a few extra bucks, get the job done right. Nora herself would appreciate that outlook, if she ever climbed down off her damn broomstick to listen to him.

He dropped onto his back and slid beneath the front of the car, wrench in hand. Way the front was punched in, there could be some damage to the internal workings. He got the splash shield off and—wait a second, what in the hell was this?

A thin black box, about the size of a remote control but without the buttons, was mounted on the bumper reinforcement. One of those sensors he’d been worrying about? Those were usually wired in, though, and this thing just sat there by itself. Jerry tapped at it gently with the wrench, and the thing slid around a bit. Reached out and got his fingers around it and pulled. Popped right off. It was held on with a damn magnet. Two thin wires trailed out of it, and he followed them with his fingers, found another box, this one larger, and popped it free, too.

Pushing back out from under the car, Jerry sat up and studied his find. The smaller device was plain black plastic with a magnet on the back and a small red LED light in the center. The other thing, the bigger one, looked like some sort of battery pack. First thing he thought of was one of those GPS units. Buddy of his, Steve Gomes, had one he took hunting. Tracked your position. The Lexus had a navigation system, so it would need a GPS unit, but wasn’t that inside the computer?

That’s when he got it. The magnets were there so you could attach the thing to the underside of the car, on the frame. Attach it without the owner knowing. But whoever put this one on, they went even a bit further. Popped out the bolts and got it inside the splash shield on the bumper reinforcement, where it would be protected from water and road debris and couldn’t possibly fall off.

“Who are you, friend?” he said, bouncing the black box in his hand and staring at the Lexus. Nora said the guy gave her cash, didn’t show a driver’s license or credit card, anything with his name on it. Stupid of her to let him go like that, no proof of identity, but two grand in cash had a way of convincing even the strictest person to let a few details slide. Couple kinds of people in this world liked to move without identification, and a smaller number of those were going to have someone tracking them. Drug dealer, maybe? Bank robber? Could there be cops on the way, following him with this gadget?

Jerry walked into the office with the device in his hand, opened the mini fridge, and pulled out a can of Dr Pepper. Jerry drank three or four Dr Peppers a day. Kept him fresh. He dropped into the chair behind the desk and cracked the top on the can, took a long swallow, and considered his find. No matter the explanation for the black box’s presence, Nora was going to be damn interested in it, and, possibly, so would the cops. Should they call the cops, though? Did they have any reason to? Maybe not. Maybe it was best just to pretend they’d never seen the thing. He could put it back inside the splash shield, send it on its way without ever knowing what it was doing there. That would be Nora’s call to make, not his.

He should have heard the husky growl of the tow truck engine, but the black box had taken his mind deep into other places, and he missed it. When Nora entered the office, he was still in her chair, with his boots propped up on her desk and the soda can in hand. Her face twisted at the sight.

“Tell me,” she said, “that the Mazda is done, Jerry.”

“Listen, Nora—”

“No.” She leaned over and slapped at his boot, trying to knock it off the desk. His foot didn’t budge. “I will not listen, because I’ve heard them all already. Every excuse and problem and complaint that you utter. None of them are new, not anymore.”

“Wait a sec—”

“If my father had any idea the sort of work ethic you exhibit down here, he’d be disgusted. Absolutely disgusted. The last thing I said before I left was that I wanted you to finish that Mazda, and instead you spend your time sitting at my desk drinking a soda?”

“I just sat down two seconds ago. Reason was, when I started taking that Lexus apart . . .” The little black box was in the hand not occupied by the Dr Pepper. He started to lift it above the desk, thinking to drop it in front of her, shut her up, but she started in again.

“Lexus? I didn’t ask you to do a thing to that Lexus, Jerry! I specifically said the Mazda needed to come first. What can’t you follow about that?”

Jerry kept his hand below the desk, closed his fingers around the black box, felt his jaw clamp tight.

“Would you please go get some work done?” Nora said. “Please do what I already asked?”

He slipped his hand into the pocket of his coveralls, dropped the plastic device inside, and swung his boots off the desk and to the floor.

“Yes, sir, boss. Don’t let me bother you anymore.”

On his way back through the shop he stopped at his locker, placed the tracking device inside, then slammed the door shut and locked it.